Two Days in the Valley
by MaverickLover2
Summary: When Bart's wife sends him off for two days of rest and recreation, she has no idea that the trip to Claytonville will bring a lot of surprises . . . now and for the future.
1. Claytonville

Two Days in the Valley

Chapter 1 – Claytonville

Four days after his sister left Little Bend, Texas to return to Montana, Bart Maverick prepared to travel to Claytonville for some rest, recreation, and poker. His wife, Doralice, almost seven months pregnant with their third child, was most anxious for him to leave. All summer he'd been bombarded with one problem after another, culminating in the possible 'much too early' birth of that very child. When everything finally settled down and the crisis had passed, Doralice was more than concerned about her husband's mental state.

So she suggested he go play some poker. He'd spent the better part of his life as a professional poker player, but had almost given it up to take over the management of Maude's, the biggest and best saloon in Little Bend. Maude's was owned by its namesake, Maude Donovan de la Torres, his mother-in-law. He started out as nighttime floor manager but assumed day-to-day control when Maude decided she wanted to spend more time with her grandchildren, Bart and Doralice's twin daughters, and her husband.

Bart had proven to be a natural at running the place, keeping everyone happy and the profits high. And, much to his surprise, he enjoyed the responsibility. It allowed him to remain around the game he loved without the hazards of going broke or constantly traveling, and it gave him much desired time with his wife and daughters, whom he adored.

But the stress and strain he'd dealt with this summer had exhausted him, mentally and physically. The visit of an old friend who was in dire need of his help, followed quickly by the summer-long stay of his 'sister,' Jody Dooley, who brought problems and issues of her own with her, left him in need of time with nothing better to do than . . . play poker.

Doralice recognized the mental fatigue her husband was suffering from, even if he didn't. To top everything off, her pregnancy had proven problematical, with the continual suffering of migraine headaches and false labor pains, and Bart drove himself crazy with worry for her and their unborn child. By the time both conditions had subsided, Doralice was well aware of the fact that a day or two of the game he loved would do him a world of good. And she set about convincing him of the same.

She had an answer for every issue that he raised. Maude's husband Cristian was a well-known attorney who was out of town on a trial, so Maude could stay at the Maverick house. That way Doralice wouldn't be alone. Bart had a perfectly capable floor manager named Billy Sunday who could handle the saloon for a day or two without everything falling apart, and the more Bart thought about it, the better it sounded. After a lot of additional assurances that she would be fine, especially if he was gone for such a short span of time, Bart succumbed to his wife's urging and agreed to leave at the end of the week for Claytonville.

The more he thought about it, the better it sounded . . . and he began to actually look forward to leaving. Doralice was right, he needed some time with nothing to think about but the cards, to clear all the cobwebs out of his mind, to put himself back on track emotionally. And so, on Friday morning, he packed a bag, kissed his daughters and his wife goodbye, and headed for Claytonville.

XXXXXXXX

The town had grown considerably since the last time he and Doralice had been there. Once smaller than Little Bend, the city itself was now almost three times the size of its nearest neighbor. Little Bend was growing, but Claytonville was growing even faster.

There were two full-size hotels . . . the Claytonville Arms and the Claytonville City Hotel. Bart checked in to the Claytonville Arms and had them wire Doralice so she would know where to find him if he was needed. That, in itself, was something of a step forward for the hotel. A telegraph office right inside! It certainly was convenient. The saloon had been remodeled, and a poker room added where the old dining salon used to be. The restaurant moved next door.

Bart went to his room and changed clothes. He'd ridden into town in what he called his traveling clothes, but he wanted to play poker dressed a little more appropriately. By the time he got back downstairs it was almost noon, and he found a table he liked with a game that seemed promising and began to play.

It wasn't exactly rough going at first, but his game was nowhere as smooth as he would like it to be, and there were some spots where he was simply outmaneuvered. That showed him just how rusty his skills had become over the last year or so, and he was determined that he wasn't getting up from the table before he'd done some polishing.

That's why he was still sitting at the same table come eight o'clock that evening. He wasn't completely pleased with the way he was playing, but he was certainly better than he'd been when he first joined the table. "How's the food next door?" he asked Charlie Benson, the man playing to his immediate right. Charlie was at the table when Bart first sat down.

"Not fit for man nor beast," Charlie replied and drew a laugh from half the table. "Try Mollie Jane's about half a block up the street. Better food and prettier waitresses. Although you probably ain't concerned with that," Charlie added, noting the wedding ring on Bart's left hand.

"You're right about that, Charlie," Bart agreed. "But I do want good food."

"Mollie Jane's the place to go then," Bert Phillips offered. Bert was on Bart's left and had only been at the table an hour or two. "Specially this time of night. Best cook in town is workin' there right now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you won't find none better here in Claytonville. Manny Sabilla makes the tastiest dishes anywhere. You comin' back afterwards?" Charlie inquired.

"Yeah, I need some more practice," Bart laughed, indicating the stack of money in front of him.

"I'd say you're doin' just fine," came from Bobby Braddock, on the far side of the table.

Bart laughed again. "I guess I am, at that." He picked up his funds and put them in his wallet, then gathered himself and got up from the table. "Gentlemen, I'll be back later."

Charlie watched Bart walk away from the table and out of the poker room. "Seems like a nice enough fella," he remarked.

"Don't you know who that is?" Bobby asked.

"No. Should I?"

"You ever hear of Maude's Saloon over in Little Bend?"

Charlie nodded. "Sure. It's supposed to be somethin' real fancy. What's he got to do with . . . ?"

Bert answered that question. "That's the head man, the guy that runs the place."

"Maverick? He runs Maude's?"

"Yep," Braddock offered. "Wonder what he's doin' over here?"

"Probably seein' how much he can take us all for," the fifth man at the table, Swifty Jones, told them.

"What does that mean?"

"He's a cardsharp."

"Don't play like one," Charlie finally declared.

"You see who was winnin' all the money at the table, don'tcha?"

"That don't mean nothin'. Maybe he's just a good poker player."

"I still wanna know what he's doin' in Claytonville."

"Somebody go get the sheriff."

"What for?" Charlie asked.

"So when we catch him cheatin' Manning can arrest him, that's what for." Jones left no doubt that he thought Bart was crooked.

"You're wrong, Swifty. I been playin' with him all day, and he ain't cheatin'."

The argument about Bart Maverick continued for another ten minutes before Swifty Jones got up from the poker table and went to get the newly hired sheriff, Louis Manning. Manning listened to Swifty's brief entreaty, then followed him back to the poker room. "Alright, what's this all about?" he asked, and the discussion started all over again. It was gonna be a long night.


	2. Your Cheatin' Heart

Chapter 2 – Your Cheatin' Heart

Mollie Jane's was full of people when Bart got there, and he was lucky to catch the last table in the very back of the restaurant. Even with it this busy the waitress was quick and pleasant, and he had a cup of coffee in less than five minutes. And when the food got there he had to agree with Charlie . . . everything about it was excellent.

Sitting in the café eating supper by himself served to remind him of all those days gone by when he had no choice in the matter. Many a meal was spent with a book or straining to solve the newest problem to occupy his brain, and most certainly alone. Even with all the noise and chaos going on around him, he missed his girls. Maudie with her cry of 'Poppy, Poppy,' and Belle still calling him 'Da-Da,' even though she was perfectly capable of saying 'Daddy.' Worst of all, he missed his wife.

His wife. There was a thought that made him smile. For years after Caroline died he believed there was no wife in his future; that he was destined to remain alone. And then, somehow, another woman slowly made her way into his heart – Doralice. And once she was there, she burrowed deeper and deeper until he knew she belonged there . . . forever. He was still in this reflective mood when he heard his name being called, and he looked up abruptly.

The man standing in front of him so closely resembled his brother Bret that it was startling. Tall and well-built, he had nearly black hair and dark brown eyes. He was almost the same height as Bret, and there was only one significant difference – this man was wearing a tin star. "Mr. Maverick?"

"That's right. What can I do for you, Sheriff . . . "

"Manning. Lou Manning. Can I sit down?"

Bart nodded. What did the local sheriff want with him? Then an awful thought struck him. "My wife, Sheriff Manning. Has something happened to my wife?"

The sheriff pulled out a chair and sat down. "Your wife? No sir, I'm sorry, I'm not here about your wife."

"Then what do you need, sheriff?"

"Why are you in Claytonville, Mr. Maverick?"

"No offense meant, Sheriff Manning, but what business is that of yours?"

Manning almost grinned. Just from the tone of voice used to ask the question, he could tell that Bart Maverick was no run-of-the-mill cardsharp. "Let's just say it's in the public interest that I know why you're here."

"Then why doesn't the public ask me?"

"I'm asking you."

Bart had gotten a piece of apple pie when his coffee was refilled, and he slowly and deliberately ate the last bite of it while he studied the man in front of him. It had been a long time since he'd had a run-in with John Law, and he finally decided that it probably wasn't in his best interest to have one now. "I'm here to play poker, Sheriff."

"That's the only reason?"

"That's the only reason."

"Why Claytonville?"

What information was this man after? And why did he want to know? "Why not Claytonville?"

"Are you telling me you rode all the way from Little Bend just to play poker here?"

"That's exactly right, Sheriff."

"Why didn't you play in your own saloon?"

"Are you going somewhere with these questions, Manning?"

The lawman shook his head. "Nope. Nowhere at all."

Bart nodded. "Good, then you won't mind if I don't answer them."

Manning sighed. This obviously wasn't going to be easy. "Look, Mr. Maverick, I have my reasons for asking you all the questions. What would it take for us to be civil with each other – I ask my questions, and you give me straight answers? We could get this over with a lot faster."

The businessman argued that the sheriff was correct – it would be easier and faster just to answer the questions. The gambler knew there was something behind the questions that he wasn't gonna like – and wanted to know just what it was. The businessman won this round. "What do you want to know, sheriff?"

"Why did you come to Claytonville to play poker instead of playing in your own saloon?"

"First, let's get this straight – Maude's doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Maude Donovan de la Torres. I simply manage the place. Second – if you were to get a vacation, would you want to spend it sittin' in your office? Well, neither did I. I'm in that saloon almost every single day. I wanted to play some poker. I didn't want to sit inside Maude's to play. Third, my wife and me are about to have another baby, and she ain't had it easy this time. She wanted me to take a couple days off before the baby's born. I wanted to be able to get back home in a hurry if I had to. Now, why did you want to know?"

How much should he divulge? In spite of the sheriff's misgivings, he had the feeling he'd gotten honest answers. "Your poker playing over at the Claytonville Arms. It's fallen under a little bit of . . . suspicion."

Bart snorted. "Suspicion. Nice euphemism for somebody thinks I cheated."

"I didn't say that," Manning explained defensively.

"You didn't have to. I know an accusation when I hear one."

"It's simple enough, Maverick. Don't cheat."

"So you've convicted me without a trial."

"Let's just say I'm givin' you fair warning."

The gambler had heard enough. He stood and left his money on the table, then gave the sheriff a contemptuous look before leaving. "You've given me a warning. There was nothin' fair about it."

Manning sat at the table for another minute or two and watched Maverick walk out of the café. _'Strange_ _man,'_ he thought. ' _Seems bright enough. I wonder . . . do you suppose he ain't a card cheat? Maybe the boys at the hotel are wrong. And if they are . . . I just insulted an honest man. Well . . . we'll see, won't we?'_


	3. Accused

Chapter 3 – Accused

Bart left the café in an irritated mood. He hadn't played poker that well; nowhere near the level of his expertise. And still, once again the finger had been pointed at him. He wasn't this upset since . . . since the last time he'd been accused of cheating.

He was torn between returning to the poker room and finding another place to play. The gambler in him was pushing for the former; while his better judgment was urging him towards the latter. From his spot on the boardwalk he could see a saloon, The Gilded Lily, and he finally headed there rather than the hotel. Not quite as nice, nevertheless he found a game that looked and felt reasonable, and he was soon back to playing. By midnight he was more comfortable and had gotten into an involved conversation with the man to his left, Phil Gordon. Phil had a horse ranch about ten miles south of Claytonville, the Old Bar G, where he was raising Arabian's and Morgan horses.

Bart had been interested in Arabians since the summer he worked for Fred Willis. Fred was a neighbor of the Mavericks; Bret worked for him the summer before. Fred had acquired one Arabian stallion and two pure-blooded mares, and Bart was in charge of the three horses. He learned a lot about the breed that summer and became fascinated by them. Molly Hooper was cross breeding an Arabian stallion with Mustang mares in Arizona, and Bart was once more drawn to the idea of raising horses.

He spent the rest of the night at the Lily, drinking coffee and exchanging ideas with Gordon. When he and Bret had first returned from the War, they intended to raise and sell steers; as he grew older he became more attracted to the idea of horses. They weren't quite as deadly.

He was enjoying running Maude's, at least he was right now, but he had no desire to keep doing it the rest of his life. He wanted something of his own, something he might be able to share with Bret when the time came, and he began to think that horses were the way to go. There was a big market out there for the animal, and that wasn't even counting the growing Thoroughbred industry.

He and Phil had really hit it off, and come sunrise and the completion of the game, they decided to go to breakfast. Gordon suggested another café a little further north in town called Mama Maria's, and they gathered their funds and headed there.

The food wasn't as good as Mollie Jane's but it was still better than a lot he'd eaten, and it was quieter inside. At least it was until Charlie Benson, Bert Phillips and Swifty Jones entered the establishment. Bart groaned, and Phil looked concerned. "You alright?"

"Remember I told you about the bunch I was playin' with at the hotel?"

"Yeah, the ones that thought you was cheatin'?"

The gambler nodded. "That's them, minus one."

"Ignore 'em."

"Give 'em enough time and they'll have you convinced I was cheatin'."

Phil chuckled and shook his head. "Son, I been playin' poker long enough to know when I got a cardsharp in the bunch I'm playin' with. And you don't fit the bill. "

"Much obliged, Phil. Wish they believed that . . . it's the truth. My brother and me made our reputations by playin' honest our whole lives."

"Your brother . . . wouldn't be named Bret, would he?"

"That's him. You know him?"

Phil shook his head and explained. "I played against him once, in Kansas City. Needless to say, I lost. The two of you play similar, but not exactly alike. And your stories are better than Bret's. I shoulda seen it earlier. There's a family resemblance, and not just in the skill levels. He still playin'?"

"Oh, yeah. He's still out there travelin' around. I'd be there with him if I hadn't met a special woman. It changed my whole life."

"You miss it?"

"Sometimes. This year's been real . . . complicated. I needed a break, and my wife suggested I go play poker. So here I am. And then this . . . with the cheatin'." Bart shook his head. "I didn't need this."

Phillips and Jones had taken a seat up front, but Charlie Benson headed straight for Bart. He stopped right in front of the table and looked embarrassed. "Bart, I came over to apologize. I didn't have anything to do with callin' in the sheriff. I told 'em they were wrong, that you were playin' honest, but they let Swifty talk 'em into it. I'm . . . I'm sorry." Before the gambler could say anything, Charlie turned and went back to where the other two men sat. He stopped and said something to them, then left the café.

"Well. I sure didn't expect that." Bart seemed surprised by the whole incident.

"Looks like I wasn't the only one that knew you were honest." Gordon was smiling.

That triggered a smile in Maverick, as well. "Maybe this wasn't so bad, after all."

XXXXXXXX

Bart might have been right if everything had ended there. When he and Phil Gordon left the café, they agreed to meet at Mollie Jane's for a late lunch the next day. The plan was to eat and then pay a visit to Gordon's ranch – Bart was interested in seeing not only the livestock, but the way Phil had the entire ranch set up. There was an idea percolating in the back of his mind.

They hadn't been in Mollie's more than ten minutes when Lou Manning walked in. Bart tensed, expecting the sheriff to head straight for their table . . . which is exactly what happened. "Mr. Maverick, can I speak to you, please?"

Phil Gordon spoke up. "Sit down, Sheriff. Have some coffee."

Manning waved Phil off. "No, thanks, Mr. Gordon. How about it, Mr. Maverick? In private?"

Bart toyed with his coffee before answering. "What do you need now, Sheriff?"

"Right here? You sure you want to do this here?"

"I'm sure, Manning. What's the problem now?"

The sheriff looked momentarily taken aback, then decided to plunge ahead. "I got a report of cheatin' last night at the Gilded Lily."

"So? You automatically come to accuse me? How do you even know I was there?"

"You were seen havin' breakfast this morning with Mr. Gordon. The only place he plays is the Lily."

"And just who was it that complained?"

Gordon jumped in quickly. "I'll bet it was Red Saunders, wasn't it?" He turned to Bart to explain. "Red and Swifty Jones are good friends. Nothin' the two of them do would surprise me. Red's the guy . . . "

"Sittin' two down on my left," Bart interrupted. "Yeah, he played some funny-lookin' poker. Look, Sheriff, I'm not gonna be in town that much longer. I may not even play poker again. Can we just forget about who's cheatin' and who's not? I'd like the rest of my time here to be peaceful and quiet. I'll stay away from the poker rooms, that way they won't have anything to complain about. Deal?" He'd been looking forward to playing again, but the trouble he was having with the law wasn't worth it. Besides, he really wanted to see the Old Bar G and get some ideas for the future.

"Do I have your word on that?" The sheriff asked.

"I give you my word, I'll do my very best to stay outta the poker rooms."

"Alright, Mr. Maverick, I'll hold you to that." Lou Manning turned and left Mollie Jane's . . . Maverick and Gordon watched him go.

"He's fairly new in town," Phil explained.

The gambler sighed. "And he's just doin' his job. Still, because I'm here, I get blamed for somethin' I never do."

"Lunch is here. Let's just eat and head for my ranch."

Bart nodded. "Sounds good to me. I can't wait to see your set up." He picked up his sandwich, but before he took a bite he told Gordon, "Thanks for stickin' up for me."

"My pleasure. Us horse-breeders gotta stick together." And he chuckled.


	4. The Plan

Chapter 4 – The Plan

"I'm impressed," Bart told Phil Gordon once they'd finished touring the ranch. "The way you set things up . . . it's efficient and well thought out. There's only one change I'd make. I'd put the breeding barn up front and move the full barn further back. But that's just personal preference."

Bart and Phil Gordon were leaning on the fence rail outside the corral that encircled the barn. They'd spent most of the afternoon looking over the grounds and all the buildings at the Old Bar G, and that didn't count the time spent inspecting the livestock. Bart was indeed mesmerized with the way the entire ranch was laid out. Now that he'd toured the complex, he was more inspired than he'd been before.

The layout of the ranch required quite a bit of acreage, and Bart knew the perfect spot for it – Uncle Ben's land. Beau had been trying to persuade his father to come live with him, Dani and the twins in Baton Rouge, and if Ben decided to go his ranch was the perfect spot. IF he was willing to sell it to Bart and Bret. If he wasn't, Bart would have to find another place, which might not be as easy as it sounded.

"You seem pretty amazed with the way everything's set up. But if you look at it from a different angle, it all runs in a big circle, with a smaller, horseshoe-shaped complex in the northeast corner. It's really not as complicated as it first appears. And the stallion at stud – it took me two or three breeding seasons just to find the right man for the job." Both men laughed. Watching the big Arabian herd his mares around, it was obvious Phil had found exactly what was needed.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that we ended up at the same poker table. You've saved me a lot of planning and agonizing over where everything should go."

"How long have you been thinkin' about this, anyway?"

Bart chuckled slightly. "Oh, just since I was nineteen or so and in the army. Except then it was cattle, not horses."

"And now it's horses and not steers. Why?"

"Gentler. Smarter. Less likely to try and kill me. And I think that's where the market is gonna go in the future. I been on too many cattle drives. I don't need to go on no more."

"You're bright, you'll do well with our friends out here. But they are more frustrating than a game of poker. Speaking of which, were you serious about not playin' anymore?"

A shake of the head from the younger man. "I didn't say I wouldn't play any more cards. I just said I'd stay outta poker rooms."

Gordon laughed and slapped Bart on the back. "Excellent answer. How do you feel about a big, juicy steak, followed by a saloon and a poker game?"

"The only thing I'm gonna agree to right now is the steak. But I'll take the rest under advisement."

"Good enough. Let's go see what we can do about the steak."

XXXXXXXX

Claytonville had a steakhouse at the south end of town named The Tender Steer, and that's where Phil and Bart went for supper. By the time their meal was over it was past nine o'clock, and there was a saloon right next door. Dirty Nellie's wasn't the biggest or best place in town, but it had several lively games in progress and one more thing going for it . . . it wasn't a poker room. Bart had worded his promise to Lou Manning very carefully . . . only guaranteeing to stay out of poker rooms. He said nothing about not playing the game.

It was a peaceful night until about three o'clock in the morning, when both Red Saunders and Swifty Jones wandered into the saloon. Red took a seat at the game Phil was involved with, and Swifty ended up at Bart's table. He played for about two hours, badly as it were, before he got up and left not only the game but the saloon.

Just after sunrise both Bart and Phil were ready to call it a night. Breakfast was the next thing on the menu, with Maverick then catching a couple hours sleep and heading for Little Bend. He'd enjoyed the poker and had done better than he expected, but he was most grateful for meeting Phil Gordon. He'd met someone with the potential to become a friend, and a long dormant interest had been revived.

They'd just walked out of Dirty Nellie's and Bart was in the process of lighting a cigar when he saw someone coming down the street . . . and groaned. It was the sheriff. "What do you suppose he wants now?" Phil asked.

"Probably to berate me some more."

When Manning got about ten feet away from the two men, he stopped in his tracks. "Mr. Maverick."

"That's me," Bart replied sheepishly.

"You gave me your word. And you broke it."

"I told you l'd stay out of poker rooms, Sheriff Manning. And I did just that." Bart took a long draw on the cigar and blew smoke out. "I did not break my word."

"I've had another complaint of cheating."

"At Dirty Nellie's, of course."

"That's right."

"Sheriff, Mr. Gordon and me are goin' to breakfast at Mollie Jane's. Then I'm goin' back to my hotel and sleep for a couple hours. Then I'm leavin' town. If you have any objections, you can find me at one of those places."

"No, you're not. You're comin' back to the jail with me. Until I can get this mess straightened out."

Before Bart could object, the sheriff had managed to slap a handcuff on the gambler's left wrist. It was a natural reaction, a right cross to the sheriff's jaw, and so was Manning's – a colt in Bart's ribs.

"You're under arrest, Maverick," the sheriff declared, and Bart cursed himself for being so dumb.

"Look, Manning, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"And I didn't mean to arrest you, either," Lou replied. "But we're goin' to jail anyway."

"Sheriff . . . "

Manning slipped the second handcuff on Bart's right wrist. "Walk," he commanded, and pushed the gambler forward.

"Phil, can you send a telegram for me?" Bart called over his shoulder as Manning kept the gun in his ribs.

"Sure. I'm right behind you." The three men walked the rest of the way to the jail silently. When they got inside Manning deposited Bart in a cell, took off the handcuffs, and locked the cell door.

"Don't tell her I got arrested, please. Just tell her I'm fine but got delayed and won't be home tonight."

"You ain't gonna be home for a while, gambler," the sheriff stated emphatically. "You been cheatin' at cards for the last forty-eight hours, and I got people that will file a complaint against you for it."

"And I slugged a sheriff," Bart added guiltily.

"And you assaulted a peace-officer."

Bart gave Phil the information for Doralice. Before he left, Gordon posed a question to the sheriff. "Who complained about cheatin' at cards? Jones and Saunders?"

Manning shook his head. "I can't tell you that, Mr. Gordon."

"The only cheatin' goin' on at those tables was done by those two. And if you'd been sheriff for more than five minutes you'd know that."

"Look, Mr. Gordon, I'm just tryin' to do my job. You bring me proof of that or get them to back off on their complaints and I'll drop the charges against Maverick. Until then, he stays right where he is."

Phil Gordon left, and Lou Manning sat down at his desk. "Hey, Manning, how about some coffee? I haven't had anything since supper last night."

Coffee sounded like a good idea, and Lou poured two cups. "Can I trust you with this?" he asked the gambler as he passed the coffee cup through the bars.

Bart took the coffee gratefully. "Look, sheriff, I'm sorry I hit you. It was just instinct. You slapped that handcuff on me without warning, and I reacted. Over-reacted, I guess. But I still don't cheat at cards, and I wasn't cheatin' last night or the night before."

"Can you prove that?"

Manning wasn't giving up, was he? "Can you prove it was me and not Jones and Saunders?"

The sheriff started to say something and then thought better of it. Maverick might have a point, after all. What if it wasn't him that was doin' the cheating? "How much did you win altogether, Maverick?"

The gambler pulled his wallet out of his coat and counted the money. "About twelve hundred dollars. "

Twelve hundred dollars. Was that all? It sure didn't sound like much, considering the amount of money supposedly floating around in the games Bart was playing in. "Are you sure?"

Maverick stuck his wallet out through the bars. "You wanna count it yourself?" The sheriff nodded and took the wallet. When he was done counting, he handed it back through the bars. "You expected there to be more?"

"Yeah. They made it sound like thousands of dollars."

"Jones and Saunders, you mean?"

"Yep." It took the sheriff a minute to realize that he'd admitted it was Jones and Saunders that filed the cheating complaints. Maybe Maverick had been telling the truth all along. Maybe he wasn't cheating. Just how was he supposed to find out? "Maverick? If I let you out of here, do you think you could catch 'em? Cheatin', I mean?"

"Probably. You got a plan?"

"I do. You willin' to give it a try?"

Bart nodded. "If you're willin' to drop the assault charge."

Manning grinned. "Maybe we can make this come out right after all."


	5. Sweet Dreams

Chapter 5 – Sweet Dreams

Bart was back in the poker room at the Claytonville Arms. He was tired, he was hungry, and he wanted to go home. And he wasn't talking about his room upstairs.

The only way to get out of the mess he'd found himself in was to help a man that had spent the last forty-eight hours accusing him of cheating at poker. In order to catch the men who were really responsible for the sudden surge in illegal poker playing Bart had agreed to work with Sheriff Lou Manning. It wasn't his first choice, but it was the only option open to him.

To that end, he'd been playing poker here at the hotel poker room since six o'clock this evening. Swifty Jones hadn't gotten here until almost ten, and it was after midnight before his table folded and he took the empty seat at Bart's table. "I see you're still here, Maverick," was the first bit of conversation that passed between the two of them.

"Yep," Bart answered. "Ain't made enough money to go home. Need to play better."

Jones made a sound that amounted to a grunt and Bart ignored him. Maverick paid attention instead to the way Jones played the game; it took him a while to catch on to just how Swifty was cheating. When he finally saw the pattern of deceit, he played three more hands just to be sure he was right. He only had one chance to nail this particular cardsharp, and he wasn't going to blow it by jumping the gun. He tested his powers of observation and predicted Swifty's cards for the first hand Jones dealt; then tried once more for the second hand. He was right again. And finally, on Jones third deal, he called the cards exactly one last time. Once the fourth hand had been dealt and the pot had grown proportionately, Swifty discarded two cards and took two new ones; he was the dealer for this game, too.

Bart looked up and caught Sheriff Manning's eye; in just a minute the sheriff was standing right behind Jones. "Sheriff, Mr. Jones has been providing himself with all the good hands. Right now he should have the Ace of Spades, the Ace of Hearts and the Ace of Clubs, along with the Queen of Diamonds and the Queen of Spades. His discards were the three of Hearts and the seven of Spades."

Manning took the cards out of Swifty's hands and laid them on the table. They were the Ace of Spades, the Ace of Hearts and the Ace of Clubs, along with the Queen of Diamonds and the Queen of Spades. Then he turned over the top two discards and found the three of Hearts and the seven of Spades. "Anybody got any questions?" No one at the table said a word, and the sheriff literally picked Swifty up by the collar before quickly handcuffing him. "Come on, Mr. Jones, there's a jail cell with your name on it."

Manning looked at the gambler before marching his prisoner out of the poker room, and Bart followed them to the jail. "I told you it wasn't me," the gambler stated succinctly, once Jones was locked up. "He doesn't strike me as a very brave character . . . I would imagine with enough pressure he'll give up his partner, Saunders."

"Maverick . . . " the sheriff began.

Bart felt his breath catch in his throat. He was already a day late going home, and if he didn't want it to be two days or more, he was going to have to ride home with no sleep. A bargain was a bargain, however, and he'd made one with Lou Manning. If there was anything else the sheriff wanted, he was going to acquiesce.

Instead, Manning stuck out his hand to shake Bart's. "I want to apologize. I was wrong about you, and I'm willing to admit it. You're alright."

Hesitantly, Bart shook hands. "Well. I was a lot less than polite. Sorry I gave you such a hard time. You ain't such a bad guy yourself."

"You headed back to Little Bend?"

"Yeah. Soon as I check out of the hotel. I got a wife and two little girls waitin' for me at home. They'll be wonderin' what I've gotten into this time."

"Stay safe on your way back."

"Thanks, Sheriff. You, too."

Bart stopped at Mollie Jane's for a cup of coffee and some breakfast, but finished quickly and returned to his hotel room. A minimal amount of packing was all it took to send him downstairs to check out of the hotel, and soon after he was mounted and on the road back to Little Bend. The trip to Claytonville wasn't what he'd expected; it could have been better, but it could have been worse. At least everything was settled with John Law, and if he ever decided he needed to get away again, he could always come back and spend another two days in the valley.

XXXXXXXX

It was late afternoon by the time Bart left Blue at the livery with the orders for a good rubdown and a special treat for dinner. He was tired and hungry, and wanted nothing more than a hot cup of coffee, a soft bed, and the loving arms of his wife. What he got instead when he opened the door to his house was today's version of Maverick chaos. Two tiny tornados came running at him, yelling a combination of "Poppy" and "Daddy,"; both were eager to throw their arms around his neck and smother him with kisses. Once he'd satisfied his daughters' desire, he was swiftly encircled by the loving arms of his wife.

"Are you alright? What happened? You were supposed to be home yesterday. And what was her name? King High Full House? Ace High Straight? Four Queens?"

"None of those, actually. Her name was Cardsharp Bart Maverick. And Sheriff Lou Manning. I could really use some coffee. Do we have any?"

"Not at the moment. But I can make some for you real quick. You look tired. Come sit down in the kitchen." Doralice seemed to have almost doubled in size since he'd left for Claytonville, but she took his hand and he followed her to the table. "Now tell me all about Sheriff Manning."

"Before I do, I have something for you." He pulled a small box from his coat pocket and handed it to her. "Remember our little jewelry store? They had these, and I couldn't resist them." 'These' were a pair of tiny gold heart earrings; he'd spotted them on his way to the hotel and bought them on spur-of-the-moment impulse. And he was awfully glad he had.

"Oh, Bart! They're beautiful!" Doralice stopped in the middle of her coffee making to give him a hug and a kiss.

"I've got something for the girls, too, but it can wait until morning."

"I'm sure they'll be thrilled, whatever it is." She went back to the coffee pot and in just a few minutes presented her husband with a steaming cup of coffee. He took it gratefully and turned his chair towards her.

"Good thing Claytonville's got themselves a new sheriff," he started. "Anybody that was a little closed-minded could have caused a lot of trouble. " He took a swallow of coffee and patted the chair next to him. "Come sit down, and I'll tell you the whole story."

It took almost an hour to explain everything that had happened since he left Little Bend, and he saved the most interesting part for last . . . the new found friendship with Phil Gordon, and his revived interest in breeding horses. When he was finished, he looked to Doralice to see what her reaction would be to his eventual change of 'jobs.'

"What do you think? I know we haven't discussed any of this, but it's really somethin' I'd like to pursue. Eventually, honey, not right now." He held his breath and waited anxiously, knowing that her opinion would make all the difference in the world.

"I . . . well, I might need a little time to get used to it. But I kinda agree with you . . . I'm not sure I want to be runnin' the saloon when I'm Maude's age. I've always liked horses, and the girls are crazy about 'em. So I'm open to considering it."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. And you're not mad about me gettin' called a cardsharp one more time?"

"It's not fair to you, I know that. But it's not true, and you seemed able to get around it pretty easily. And I think you handled yourself pretty well – except for that punch you threw at the sheriff."

"I know, I was mad at myself as soon as I did it. But that handcuff just came outta nowhere!"

"Out of nowhere?" Doralice laughed.

"Now, I've told you everything I can think of. How are you doin'? You look like you feel good."

She nodded her head. "I do. Better than I have in weeks. I think Beauregard's decided to stop causin' trouble. Why don't you go lie down for a while? I'll start supper in just a bit, and I'll wake you when it's done. That way you can sleep for at least an hour."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Bart agreed. "I'm gonna go find the bed."

In five minutes he had everything off but his long johns and his pants, and he was curled up with a blanket on the bed. Just before he fell asleep he felt two little angels join him, one on either side of him. He smiled in his sleep and the three of them snuggled together; while Bart dreamed of a horse ranch, the girls dreamed of . . . what every little girl dreams of.

The End


End file.
